Am I My Brother's Keeper?

Of course not. I must walk aloof, alone, And clutch my dear possessions close to me: Pomp and power; prizes I’ve sought, and won! And since I have no “brother” of my own I have no one to keep or help, you see, “Each man for himself”—that is how it’s done! And help I ask from anyone is none. …At least that’s how I’ve tried to make it be, Until suburban coldness stills my heart And I grow sick of living inwardly, Discovering my neighbors aren’t made of stone, (Chain-link fences can’t prison us apart) As cautiously our nervous voices start Exchanging greetings in that iced Unknown.